


Male Models or Something

by Aifeifei



Series: Destiel Drabbles [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Humor, M/M, Modeling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 13:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2653835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aifeifei/pseuds/Aifeifei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas are supposed to be rivals. But they meet. They're not rivals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Male Models or Something

There was a buzz behind Dean, a little more than usual, as a reporter began listing off reasons Dean was in the place that he was on the charts. Dean was pretty sure that nobody even liked male models that much — he was on top, and always had been — however, Dean’s popularity with his role as the model for one of the latest campaign games had been threatened by a boy in a similar position. His name was Castiel Novak. Now, every gamer or model enthusiast in the vicinity of anywhere was talking a bit about these pretty boys and some sort of ‘rivalry’ they had. Dean was meeting this guy for the first time today, due to their dual contract with the designers for a cover of a book or something. He didn’t see the big deal of such a stupid thing. He tried not to get too pissed.

He especially tried not to care because Novak was very attractive, and very stoic, and very angry looking all the time. Dean bet that it was a false persona, and he promised himself that when he actually met this noob he’d turn out to be an asshole and Dean could have his lovely PR people take a stair or two out of Novak’s ladder. But there was a tiny little doubt in his mind, telling him that Novak’s delicious personality was all-too-real and for some reason, Dean was undoubtedly attracted to clueless douchebags with dark hair and stubble and blue eyes.

And that is why Dean was incredibly pissed that the media was covering every friggen reaction the two would have when meeting each other. Lovely.

He looked past his makeup artist as a few bodyguards shuffled through. They weren’t Dean’s, because Dean’s bodyguards consisted of Bobby Singer and Jodi Mills. Maybe that’s why Dean always got labeled as the token white southerner of male modelling. Because his bodyguards looked like hillbilly trash. It was kind of accurate, actually.

Dean’s makeup artist (Pamela) smacked Dean’s shoulder. “Alright, your new best friend Novak is here. Get your pretty ass up and smiling. Do a good job,” she added, “I need my pay check.”

A tall man in a very low cut black shirt moved out of the way to expose the man Dean knew all too well as Castiel Novak. He was picking a perfume sample out of a magazine, and was incredibly interested in it. Dean blinked, and a camera clicked in his face. Now, this whole ‘first meeting of true rivals’ thing was played out to be very _not_ about exactly how long Dean and Castiel shook hands for, but it was. The cameramen were looking at the other models in the venue, but the cameras were all pointed at Dean. Dean grinned half-hazardly, which people seemed to like.

“Hey,” he said, nodding to Castiel Novak. The low-cut-shirt-man nudged Castiel, and he looked up with startled blue eyes at his bodyguard.

“Oh you stupid shit, Castiel,” Dean heard the bodyguard say in a vaguely French accent. “You need to introduce yourself. Don’t fuck this up.”

Dean cleared his throat again as Castiel Novak looked over at him. “Hi, I’m Dean. I just finished up with the roll modelling for Gumball. From _Dalloy 7_.”

Castiel lowered his head, looking up at Dean, as a few more cameras clicked around them. “Yes. I know that, I was briefed on you before we got here. Also, I saw your commercial with Heys Luggage in the car ride over.”

His eyes were bluer than physically possible. Dean turned a gentle shade of red underneath 5 layers of powder foundation. And, as it turns out, Castiel Novak does in fact appear to be clueless and stoic and straight to the point. Dean cleared his throat, flashing a beautiful smile at the camera for some modelling blog. “Yeah uh, my PR people did the same. I can’t believe you actually recognized me from that.”

“I did,” Castiel nodded, looking away to play with his perfume sample again. It was the lady gaga one. Literally everyone with their heads out of the ground has smelt that perfume. But, Dean figured, Novak was probably three feet under. “In fact,” Castiel said, pursing his lips just a tad and pointedly looking at Dean’s shoes. “I’ve been a bit of a fan of yours for a long time.”

“Dammit, Castiel, you can’t just tell your rival that!” French guy said. “You’re _rivals,_ not BFFs!”

“I don’t want to be rivals,” Dean blurted out, and he saw Pamela shaking her head at that point because 5 layers of foundation could _not_ conceal the obnoxious flush of Dean’s entire face. “I mean, that’s… I’m a fan of yours as well.”

Dean suddenly got a surge of quickly disappearing anger. Because let’s get one thing straight; Dean was. Certainly, very straight. Or at least he was supposed to be, because he wasn’t the kind of male model that posed for Chanel. Oh no, he was a gamer model. Yep, that’s right, he was going to San Diego comic-con next year. There was no room for intense bisexual crushes on blue eyed pretty boys. 

Castiel looked at Dean then, a gentle smile playing on lips which Dean would have formerly considered incapable of anything except frowning and hopefully making out. “I’m glad for that. I don’t want to be a rival of yours either. I’m thinking of playing _Dalloy 7_ because of you. I don’t even like video games.”

Now that, coming out of Castiel’s mouth, caused 1) the cameras to shutter uncontrollably, 2) Castiel’s bodyguards and PR people to groan and 3) Dean to blush like a schoolgirl. “Haha,” Dean began, his voice cracking in a very unattractive way. “Yeah, I’m not much of a gamer either. I liked Super Mario Party and that’s about it.”

Dean looked over to see his agent, Charlie Bradbury, practically screaming in horror. Well, he done did it. Went and revealed to his audience of _gamers_ that he didn’t like video games. But it made Castiel smile. Yeah, okay, he was done for. Goodbye pay check. Ain’t nobody hiring you, Dean. At least, Dean thought, nobody is going to hire you if you keep smiling at your enemy like he’s the sunshine.

Dean laughed awkwardly, and much to his surprise, so did Castiel. Dean wasn’t sure that Castiel was the laughing very often kinda guy.

“I see. Well, Dean, let’s get this book cover ready.” Castiel walked forward, towards the doorway where the set was ready and media was banned (thank God), and then stopped about a foot away to Dean and towards his right. Castiel awkwardly turned so he was facing Dean. “Perhaps,” he began, quietly, “after we could get a coffee.” and very quickly: “like actual friends, instead of rivals.”

Now Dean wasn’t born yesterday, and he’s pretty sure that when a guy is a foot away from you and asks you to coffee and then has to clarify that it’s ‘just as friends’ right after, it’s probably kind of gay. Dean wasn’t born yesterday and yet he felt like he was born maybe 12 years ago, because sue him, he said, with a face as pink as Princess Bubblegum’s butt hole: “Uh, yeah. I’d love that, Castiel.”

Nobody straight even says that.

Dean could hear Charlie being bombarded with questions like “were you aware that Dean didn’t play video games?” and “is this really Dean and Castiel’s first meeting?” Charlie mumbled “yes” and “yes” and “that motherfucking twat.”

Castiel walked alongside Dean. “I read the book this is for. It’s very good.”

“Yeah?” Dean said. He looked back at the cameras, pondering their decibel enhancement abilities. Dean shrugged; Pamela didn’t even need her pay check anyway. “I’m sure I’ll like it too, then. Do you have a copy I could borrow? I could borrow it sometimes. Like,” Dean said, throwing caution to the wind. “give me your phone number, basically.”

That low-cut-shirt guy sighed a very long and dramatic sigh, but Castiel beamed, ripping a pen out of his long trench coat. “Absolutely.”

**Author's Note:**

> what even tho


End file.
